


On a Night Like This

by iamnotbrianmay



Series: Poly!Queen Week [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Day 1: Bondage, Dom Freddie Mercury, Dom John Deacon, Dom Roger Taylor, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Brian May, Handcuffs, Multi, Poly!Queen Week, Safeword Use, Safewords, Slut Shaming, Smut, Sub Brian May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-20 22:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotbrianmay/pseuds/iamnotbrianmay
Summary: It's not like they had never done this before. This whole ordeal of chaining her up while she pretends not to want it. It's almost their go-to on a day like this in which she has been bratty all day long just to rile them up.But as Roger rakes a blunt nail down her chest she feels nausea rise up from the pit of her stomach, and she has to scream before anything really bad happens.The only problem? In the midst of her panic, Brianna's forgotten their safe word.----Day One of Poly!Queen Week: Bondage





	On a Night Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Before you start reading, this is all consensual and I would never write something in which they did something non-consensual. I don't condone and I would never make them do that in my fic. But apart from those first few moments of filth before it all comes crumbling down, it's all pure and tooth-rotting fluff. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy Day One of the Poly!Queen Week. 
> 
> PD. All of these will be set in the same universe.

One thing that Brianna May absolutely adored about Birthday season in their household was that she could act as bratty as her heart ached to be. They always talked about it a few weeks before that, apologising for everything that might happen beforehand and giving her full _creative control _over everything in the Bratt department; as Freddie liked to call it. Not that she needed their permission any other time of the year, but it felt especially exhilarating to have her Doms encourage her every move even if Deaky looked three seconds away from killing her. 

Today, she had ticked all of the boxes that drove the other three up the wall.

Brianna had stolen the t-shirt that Roger was going to use and had barely buttoned it up, making sure it showed her cleavage nicely. Next put on the Jean skirt Freddie had gifted her for Christmas that was just a little bit too tight around her ass. Then topped the look off with a liberal amount of makeup, some lovely glossy lipstick, long lashes, and what could only be described as a _collar _around her long, pale, neck. 

She had walked down the street being as flirty and dumb as possible, which she knew irked Roger, who was usually very into her being serious and bright. Then she winked at a couple of boys who wolf-whistled as she walked by, which irritated the hell out of a very possessive, _very_ jealous, Freddie. And finally, she kept being an absolute pain in the ass in the studio which drove them all insanely mad but especially bothered John. 

Now that she thought about it, it was almost a miracle she had lasted as long as she did. With her dumb-bimbo attitude, her flirting, and her lack of cooperation during studio time they should have reacted much sooner. 

It didn't matter now, not when they had dragged her out of the studio with an Iron grip, promising a particularly bad punishment for flirting with _Mike Stone _of all people and pretending to be someone she was not. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation, even as she struggled to get out of John's grasp. 

But then they passed by the same gaggle of boys she had winked at on their way to the studio. Only now they wolf-whistled for an entirely different reason. One of them cheered the three other boys on, while the one that looked like the leader of their ugly pack smiled at the bassist and gave him thumbs up, "You go, mate. Put that slut where she belongs." 

It's almost weird how fast her mood can change.

One second she's all hot and bothered, then next she feels completely alienated. These people, which she didn't even know, were treating her like a piece of garbage. Something to be fixed or taken care off. She usually likes when her boys do that, but those men? 

She is so out of it that she barely notices they have reached their flat until John is pushing her inside. She stumbles on her unsteady feet and lands on her butt. The other three are towering over her, making the usually tall woman feel terribly small. John's got a sarcastic smile across his face and a very noticeable hard-on, so for the time being, she pushed her feelings of uneasiness aside. This is about them, not her; especially not when she's already got her fun. 

This train of thought ends up being her first mistake. 

She is quick to kneel in front of the boys, head bowed down and eyes on their feet, waiting for a command. But instead of words, John leans down, tilts her chin up, and runs his thumb across her full lips, "Get the room ready, would you, loves? I have to have a serious talk with Miss May here." 

This is the part when she would usually feel wet and needy, aching for any type of friction, but all she can feel is the stares of people on the streets and the rining of a voice calling her a slut. It's not often she lets other people's comments get to her, but something about the way he had _said _that made her feel odd. It takes a few seconds of John trying to catch her attention; she's too zoned out, too distracted. 

He places a hand on her cheek and kneels, "Bri? Are you alright? We can stop this if you want." 

She knows it's her last warning to back out before the session starts in full swing and she won't be able to stop unless she safewords. However, she hears a little giggle coming from the bedroom, and Freddie squealing about how _perfect _everything looks and— She turns her head, pressing a long kiss to the palm of John's hand, then nuzzling into the touch, "I'm just a little distracted, that's all." 

John smiles softly, retracing her full lips, "I love you, bright star." 

"I love you too," Brianna blushes at the nickname, "Now make me yours." 

That's how Brianna finds herself in the predicament of feeling uncomfortable in what should have been one of their best sessions yet. It's not like they had never done this before. This whole ordeal of chaining her up while she pretends not to want it. It's almost their go-to on a day like this in which she has been bratty all day long just to rile them up.

But as Roger rakes a blunt nail down her chest, she feels nausea rise up from the pit of her stomach, and she has to scream before anything horrible happens.

The only problem? Amid her panic, Brianna's forgotten their safe word. 

She tries to make a sound, tries to convey her panic, but nothing seems to be working. There is a purple tie around her eyes that prevents her from showing her distress through expressions, and her legs and arms are tied up firmly enough that she can't get away even if she tried really hard. There is the threatening buzz of a vibrator somewhere around the room, and a light chatter about ways to _ruin _her by her boyfriends. 

Panic starts to rise, and the words seem to be stuck in her throat with no way out, then Roger flicks her nipple and, presumably, turns to look at the other two boys, "Just you wait and see, I'm gonna make her _pay _for dressing like a whore today." 

That should have been the last straw, she should have been able to scream something, but she's far too overwhelmed to move, much less speak. It is only after Roger leans down and gives her clit one long suck that she manages to find her voice. "Fuck! Fuck! Celery, flour, onion, whatever just— just make it stop please, Holy Shit!" 

She can only imagine their reaction. Roger is suddenly across the room, back to the wall and looking at her with wide eyes while the other two quickly untie her from the bed. Once she is free from the cuffs, she scrambles away from them and all but rips off the blindfold. Revealing three very concerned faces. John and Freddie look torn over whether they should try to comfort her or leave the room to give her some time alone, and Roger looks on the verge of tears. 

It takes a few seconds of staring before she reacts, curling up on herself and looking away from her three boyfriends, "Out, please, I need some time alone." 

In the blink of an eye, all of them are gone, and she is left alone in the master bedroom. She lets herself sob for a few minutes, not really knowing what had just happened. From then on, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She cleaned herself up as best as she could, and got in the largest and least form-fitting pyjamas they owned. They looked ridiculously large, even on her, but the lack of shape made her nausea tame down. 

It was only after the fog started settling into her brain that she let the other boys come in. She knew she owed them an explanation, or at least the right to deliver proper aftercare. She knew they could get especially fussy when they thought they hadn't taken good care of her. They walked into the room, asking before doing anything, making sure that she was comfortable and warm as they finished fixing up the mess they had made. 

It was Roger who approached her first, hands raised up as if to show that he wouldn't do anything she didn't ask him to do. In her fuzzy state, she made grabby-hands at the drummer, and he visibly seemed to relax as he crawled on the bed and wrapped Brianna in a hug, running soothing hands down her back and massaging her hands. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to her temple, "I'm sorry for whatever set that off." 

Brianna shook her head, "It's not your fault I felt like that, it was mine." 

He buries his head into her mass of curls, "Can I know what I did wrong? I just want to make sure it never happens again." 

She tries to come up with an answer to pinpoint exactly what triggered her to become this uncomfortable. It was nothing her boys did, nothing that they had introduced into the bedroom that had set it off, "I guess I just felt a little too used." 

Now John and Freddie were paying attention to her, also interested in never repeating the series of events that led to her being uncomfortable. "It was partially my fault, I know that I shouldn't have dressed like _that _or acted like that in front of everyone. And then those boys just—" 

She trailed off, thinking about the hungry stares and degrading words, not much different from the ones said by her boys, had made her uneasy. She tried to dry her tears with the pyjama sleeve, "I guess it sounds silly, especially because I love it when _you_ do it to me, but the realness of it was just... too much? I'm sorry, it doesn't make much sense." 

She felt someone caress her cheek with his knuckle and looked up to see Freddie. He had a reassuring smile and was looking at her with those kind eyes of his, "It doesn't have to, darling. Not right now. We can make sense of it later on. For now, let us take care of you." 

Seconds later, she found herself enveloped in a hug, her boys worshipping and praising her for being so strong. Thanking her for stopping them before it became too much. They then started to pamper her, wiping off her makeup delicately, massaging her feet, and bringing her a cup of her favourite tea. They ended up cuddled in their massive bed, exchanging sweet and soft kisses as they held each other with tenderness.   
  


Freddie pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, “Dove, it wasn’t your fault. None of it was, alright? People shouldn’t call you names, even you’re walking down the street buck naked.” 

Brianna found her insides turned to mush, feeling as loved as she had ever felt, as she drifted off to sleep. It was only interrupted as Roger cleared his throat and said, "You have my word, baby. If I ever see those idiots again, I will break their jaws." 

Brianna laughed and cuddled closer to the drummer. It was only then that she remembered her safeword, _Asteroid_. 

Yeah, she wasn't even close to guessing it. 


End file.
